Stonehaven Cothold
Various rooms within the rebuilt cothold, including Ezra's personal room.
NOTE: This scene is actually one long scene split in to multiple logs for easier reading! Links to the following "chapters" can be found at the bottom.
As the dragons land outside of Stonehaven, Gerald opens the door and then mutters with surprise as a Master Healer is the first to approach him.
“Is it Master Ezra?” the calm man asks, worry flashing onto his face as he watches dragon after dragon land.
“Yes. We need rooms ready, heated, baths if you have them. Warm water. Not hot - warm - and towels, anything you have. What you don’t have, we’ll send back to the Hall for,” the Master says, looking around the neat little cothold.
Gerald dips into a slight bow and hurries to start fires in the main rooms - one in Ezra’s, which is the master bedroom, and one in Ezra’s old room, which is now a guest room and where Lana will be staying. Pots are set on to boil water, more wood is sent for, food is pulled out and warmed, blankets are set on hearth stones to warm, etc.
Meanwhile, the Healers hoist Ezra down off his rig and carry him inside, into his own cothold and to the master bedroom where they set him on the floor near to the fire. There they begin by cleaning his head injury, clipping his hair to the scalp so they can see the jagged, deep gash that went nearly to the bone, and begin cleaning and stitching it.
Here comes another surprise? Poor Gerald. First the Master Healer with his orders, then Ezra being transported in and so seriously wounded. Lana is no doubt next to follow and brought to her room. A few minutes pass and then in hurries Rayathess, his cheeks flushed and jaw tensed as he grits his teeth against his scattered thoughts and emotions. Th’ero probably tried to have a few words with the older Stonehaven brother but it ended only in a few terse, heated and clipped exchanges. Rayathess has his brother to hover over and the Weyrleader leaves him to it, shaking his head and sighing heavily. He tried? For now though, Th’ero has other matters to attend to. Namely: seeing to his injured Wingrider and seeing that she is comfortable and matters arranged that she can fly back to Fort Weyr at the earliest convenience. One night in Stonehaven shouldn’t hurt, but it’s no place for a dragonrider.
Concerned though he is, Rayathess at least does not burst in on the Healers in a way to disrupt their work. Once he approaches Ezra’s room he slows, eyes watching both in morbid fascination and gut wrenching fear and anxiety as he witnesses just how bad that wound is, even when being stitched up. Swearing under his breath, he’ll wait until the Healers are done, hovering, fidgeting nervously before approaching his younger brother’s side. “Ezra?” he calls softly. Did they dose him, at all, for transport?
Ezra is awake. Dazed, out of it, confused, exhausted, barely coherent, but he is awake. With the possible (probable) concussion they did not give him anything other than numbweed as they work, and the heir just has to stare at the ceiling and try to make sense of it all. His brother’s voice brings a twitch of his gaze, and a shift of his hand, but that’s it.
Done with mending his scalp, the Healers then set to touching his shoulder. The moment they do though, Ezra jerks away and cries out in an instinctive near-panic response. Do not want, clearly, but the healers reach out to hold him down and begin to apply numbweed. “Can you try to keep him calm and focused on you?” the Master asks, noticing Rayathess’ approach. “His shoulder is badly dislocated and has been for some time now, it’ll be hard to get back in and we dare not give him any fellis with his concussion.” He’ll just have to suck it up, even with the numbweed it’s going to hurt.
Rayathess will turn his gaze to the Master and while he appears attentive, most of his mind and thoughts are on Ezra. Intensely so, when his brother cries out and jerks away. Instinctively, Rayathess moves to his side even before the rest of the Master Healer’s instructions sink in. Nodding tensely to show he understands, his mouth set and grim, he’ll kneel by Ezra’s good shoulder. Keeping his head lowered, he takes a few shaky breath to gather what he can of his wits. Time to play calm and collected? “Hey Ezra,” he calls again. “Look at me. Let them do their thing, but keep your eyes on me, okay?” he tells his brother, trying hard to keep his voice level. Keep it together. “Try to think of something different. Try… what’s the first thought that pops up?” In his aching head? Nice game, Rayathess!
Ezra struggles to focus on his brother, hand shifting again in a weak effort to reach for him. Faranth only knows how much coherency Ezra actually has, though he does look at his older brother. His eyes unfocus and refocus at random, expressions shifting over his face without much control. He’s unable to answer the question - unable, really, to understand it.
Waiting a moment for the numbweed to soak in as much as it can, the Healers then gently press down on Ezra’s body to hold him still, his torso and his legs, and the Master puts a hand to his collarbone while the other grips his bad arm. The first twist has Ezra’s eyes closing and he cries out in pain, writhing, fighting mindlessly against it. The Healer keeps on though, knowing it /has/ to be done. Shifting again, twisting it, pushing down /hard/, it takes little more than seconds for it to blissfully slip back into the socket. “It’s done.” But it’s taken its toll, leaving Ezra panting, white and shaking.
“He needs to stay warm, that’s the main thing now. Bring his body temperature back up gradually. We usually put people in water but I think for him, that might be too much of a shock. We’ll leave him here. Try and keep him awake if you can, but he’ll probably sleep soon.” the Healer is worried, there’s no doubt about that, as he offers Rayathess’ shoulder a squeeze. “I need to go see to the brownrider.” He directs another Healer to stay in the room though, at all times, just in case, and that Healer takes a seat a short distance away, watching.
“Come on, Ezra. Focus!” Rayathess growls, encouraging but also commanding. Stay with him! He tries to block out the sound of his brother’s cries, of the sight of him fighting and writhing while the Healers work and hold him down. Of the memories it stirs in the darker recesses of his mind and quickly stamped out again as he grits his teeth and begins to babble in rambling half-sentences and words of happier memories. Ones of their childhood and some of the present, the few and precious happier moments. Anything to get Ezra a moment of lucidity among all that pain and confusion. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” he’ll end up repeating in the end, gripping Ezra’s good shoulder firmly when the Master Healer claims that the resetting of the shoulder is done. Rayathess will lift his eyes for a moment to meet those of the Master Healer’s and his concern and growing anxieties for his brother’s health as clear as day. Why bother hiding it? “I’ll do what I can.” he mutters gruffly and for a moment his confidence holds when the man grips his shoulder but fades swift enough when the Healers (save for one) leave.
It’s difficult to tell how much sinks into Ezra’s befuddled mind, and how much he’ll remember. He shifts a bit, rolling his shoulder, fingers twitching for his brother’s. So /something/ is there in his mind, if he’s still reaching out for that contact. Flickers of a smile play on the edges of his lips at some of what Rayathess says, and then his eyes sink closed. With a soft breath, he settles into sleep, and it seems calm. For now. The Healer watches and then speaks. “We’ll wake him up every half candlemark to check on him,” he murmurs. “Don’t want him sleeping /too/ deeply.”
Rayathess doesn’t seem to consider just how much of what he babbled or rambled about will stick in Ezra’s head and memories. He had to try something! Anything. Better than feeling so helpless and powerless. Seeing his fingers twitching, he will reach to gently take his brother’s hand in his and grip firmly. He’s here, he’s here. Not spoken, since Ezra’s eyes sink closed. Rayathess exhales shakily, heavily as his shoulders slump and exhaustion threatens to settle in. “Alright.” he mutters to the Healer, lifting his eyes to peer at the man. No words, but his expression says it all. MUST he be there, in person, the whole time? Or can he have at least a handful of minutes alone with his brother?
The Healer sees that expression, and he understands it. He’s seen it often enough, and gets to his feet. “I’ll be just outside,” he murmurs, before slipping out.
Muttering a low thanks to the Healer, Rayathess will otherwise invest most of his attention, as always, to Ezra. “What’d you get yourself into this time, brother?” he sighs, whispering in a low, gruff voice. His hand still grips his brother’s, but the other is free to touch his good shoulder, pluck and fuss a bit with the blankets and perhaps gingerly touch the bandages wrapped to Ezra’s head. For awhile, Rayathess is silent, numbed by the overwhelming surge of emotions and adrenaline, of the rush of the whole rescue and so much time spent tense and on edge. He’s familiar with this feeling. Far too familiar and he slips into it far too easily. That numbed state that leaves him motionless and unable to do more than just stare down at his brother. Eventually, he will struggle free from it enough to swear under his breath. “Damn it, Ezra! Why do you feel you have to do everything yourself?” He doesn’t expect an answer to that, but with some pent up frustration let go, he sags where he sits beside his younger brother and there he’ll remain, even when the Healer returns.
Continued in He's Not Dead Yet! and Slow but Steady Recovery